


Overload Training

by Caius



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub, M/M, Rough Sex, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, brief somnophilia, but only FOR THE PAIRING, for the pairing this is ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: With Galvatron, everything is overwhelming and amazing. Cyclonus learns to control and to please.





	Overload Training

**Author's Note:**

> I found (most of) this in my files when I was going through old fic to repost. If I ever posted it anywhere, I don't know where it is now, so I edited it a bit and I'm putting it up here.

The first time Galvatron grabbed Cyclonus' antenna, his entire system overcharged with energy and devotion and excitement. Within seconds, he fell into the ecstatic systems failure his programming labeled "overload."

Deep inside him, he knew he ought to be _serving_ , ought to be doing something, giving _Galvatron_ these delightful sensations. But he could do nothing but blindly and instinctively cling to his Lord, screaming Galvatron's titles as strong hands crashed his processor again and again. Galvatron, above him--even in extremis, he was always _aware_ of his Lord--laughed in delight, pressing close, energy from his entire body overlaying and overwhelming Cyclonus' own pulsing fields.

When Lord Galvatron overloaded, everything went purple-white, every sensor stimulated and circuit overwhelmed by his Lord's pleasure. 

*****

Cyclonus came online again, abandoned, sprawled on the ground like a dead Sweep. 

He ran a diagnostic. He would survive; he wasn't even badly damaged, and his self-repair was working hard on the blown circuitry and dented plating. He stood.

Galvatron had given him the most amazing, overwhelming experience of his short life, and Cyclonus was deeply ashamed of himself. It wasn't supposed to be this good for _him_. The pleasure should be Galvatron's; his joy was in service. He would have to work on this. 

Meanwhile, he needed to find his Lord.

*****

Galvatron didn't seem displeased. In the way of his Lord, he seemed to have forgotten the whole thing, and was fully preoccupied with the next campaign against the Autobots.

And then Galvatron reached out mid-speech to squeeze an antenna and Cyclonus' body responded automatically, energy sparking from his joints and flooding into Galvatron's hand as he struggled to stay upright through the bliss of system overload.

This wasn't optimal, but Galvatron enjoyed it, so Cyclonus allowed himself to enjoy it as well. He would endure it, in any case.

*****

Cyclonus went through the next three days--Chaar days, long and hot--and nights--long and frigid--in a constant state of tension, wondering obsessively when Galvatron was going to touch him again.

It was horribly self-indulgent, he knew. But Galvatron seemed to enjoy keeping him on the edge, surprising him with touches to the wings or antennae or aft--and sometimes, shamefully, to the shoulder or knee.

It didn't seem to matter where he was touched. Galvatron was his Lord, and all of him responded. 

Eventually, it became easier to recover his equilibrium. A necessary adjustment, since he never knew when the next overload would come, and afterward he needed to be ready for anything--smiting an insolent Decepticon, shooting an Autobot, correcting a flight pattern, finishing his sentence.

*****

Practice made some other things easier. The fourth night, Galvatron wasn't content with a touch, and almost before Cyclonus had recovered from his overload, his Lord shoved him against the wall. Galvatron's full body pressed down against him _everywhere_ , hands and mouth and cannon and body making his claim, and Cyclonus reached out, desperate to return the touch, to give his Lord everything!

Galvatron overloaded twice that time, before Cyclonus lost consciousness, and from the condition Cyclonus booted up in, his Lord had taken at least one more from his unconscious body. 

Content, Cyclonus traced his hands over the marks his Lord had made on his plating, as his processor traced over the patterns Galvatron had burned through his circuitry. 

It was good. He would do better, next time.

*****

Day number six, Galvatron looked over his shoulder and ordered, "Cyclonus. Overload for me." 

He was about to protest, to offer his apologies--he had no idea how to overload himself, had never even considered overloading except at Lord Galvatron's hands. "Mighty One--" he said, and all the tension of the past few days, the damage, the anticipation, the pathways that Galvatron had burned into him--everything came together in that one title.

He obeyed, and fell to his knees, weakened. 

Galvatron walked away. But he seemed pleased.

*****

When Cyclonus had a moment's free time--which didn't happen often--he hid himself in a dark corner, stood against a large rock, and started touching himself, carefully, thinking of his Lord's strong hands, his laughter, his orders, the cannon, the thighs, the _crown_ \--he wasn't sure which thought brought him to overload. It might have just been the hand on his antenna, pressing against sensors not yet healed from Galvatron's teeth. 

Even as he cried out his Lord's name, it felt wrong; it had always been Galvatron who had done this to him.

But it was for Galvatron he did this, only for Galvatron; what if Galvatron gave the order and Cyclonus was unable to obey?

He kept practicing. 

*****

Lord Galvatron pinned him to the berth, mouth hot against his antenna, hands rough on his wings. Cyclonus' systems were running hot and starting to peak when Galvatron ordered: "Don't overload."

He overloaded. He couldn't stop himself. "Mighty One--Lord Galvatron--I'm so sorry--!"

Galvatron beat him, and left. Probably to find Astrotrain. Maybe Soundwave.

Cyclonus overloaded, _again_ , during the beating.

*****

Cyclonus' practice sessions had a new and more desperate purpose. He inflicted on himself the cruelest touches, dredged up the sexiest memories of Galvatron, and worked his very hardest on _not_ overloading.

It helped that he was frequently interrupted. It wasn't the same as having a lustful Galvatron on top of him--nothing could be--but overloading in the middle of one of the endless arguments about rations and fuel-hoarding was not nearly as humiliating as disappointing his Lord when Galvatron turned to _him_ for pleasure.

*****

Finally, Galvatron demanded his services again. This time, Cyclonus was pushed to his knees, commanded to touch, and he did so, eagerly, the complete focus on Galvatron's needs endlessly enjoyable, as he kissed the boots and stroked the thighs and licked at the mighty particle cannon. 

He was allowed to bring Galvatron to overload, twice, once with his head in his lap, and again with his hand buried--dangerously and devotedly--in the tip of the cannon.

Cyclonus didn't overload at all, and he was euphoric.

And then: "You did well, Cyclonus," Galvatron said, grazing an antenna with the toe of his boot. "You may overload."

"Yes, Mighty One...!" No overload had been like this. All his senses stayed focused on his Lord as the pleasure of service, of _Lord Galvatron's_ pleasure, overwhelmed his systems.

When the charge ebbed, he was still gazing up at his Lord, happy and devoted. Galvatron smiled down at him, and let him nuzzle his antenna against his boot once more. 

"Well done, Cyclonus," his Lord said, and _this_ time, Cyclonus' systems crashed, delightfully, at his feet.


End file.
